


And So Will We

by Steadfxst



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Crying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Praise Kink, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 19:38:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14654760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steadfxst/pseuds/Steadfxst
Summary: A completely fictional "missing scene" after the John Ashcroft incident. Jim gets some reassurance from an unlikely source.





	And So Will We

**Author's Note:**

  * For [navree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navree/gifts).



> Some details were take directly from pgs. 87-90 of _A Higher Loyalty._

He’s able to keep it together long enough to check in one more time with Janet Ashcroft, but then he has to get out. The meeting with the president’s chief of staff in the temporary command center in the room next to John’s could wait a few more minutes. At this point, it was the _least_ they could do.

Jim blindly walks through hospital corridors, hoping not to run into anyone, especially no one involved with Stellar Wind. He doesn't have a destination in mind as his long legs carry him out of the hospital and into a deserted courtyard, the small mercy of which stemmed from it being just before midnight. There’s a stone bench located under a birch tree that has his name all over it, and he sits.

Jim rests his elbows on his knees and puts his face in his hands. He leans forward, feeling like he was going to be sick. Even his stomach was rejecting everything that had just transpired. He takes deep gulps of air, trying to steady himself. His lungs burn as though he'd run a marathon, though he'd done nothing more than sit vigil at John Ashcroft's bedside and run outside. 

With his eyes closed, he silently recites a few prayers for John's health and for guidance as to what he should do next. Satisfied that he had been heard, he opens his eyes and stares at the patch of grass at his feet. He doesn’t know how long he sits like that, alone and on the verge of tears, when a pair of shiny black shoes appears in his line of sight.

“Director,” Jim says, quickly sitting up straight and swiping at his eyes.

He makes as though he's about to stand, but Bob holds up a hand. He stills.

“It’s alright, Jim. Don’t get up.”

Jim isn’t sure what he should say, so he doesn’t say anything. Bob gives him a grim look before sitting down beside him, and Jim lets out a huge sigh. His shoulders soften before curling forward again. He clasps his hands between his knees for lack of anything else to do with them besides wringing them, which he didn’t want to do in front of Bob.

For a long time, Bob doesn't say anything. Jim doesn't mind. Just being able to feel his presence was a comfort of its own. If Bob sat a little less rigidly, Jim thinks, their knees would be touching.

“You know,” Bob begins.

Jim turns his head to face him, looking at the Director in profile. He looked grim in the half-light from the lampposts. Bob continued looking straight ahead.

“I’m proud of you, Jim. For what you did in there tonight.”

Jim’s brows shoot upward. That was uncharacteristically emotional for Bob, who almost never spoke about how something made him personally feel. And he didn’t often praise a job well-done. A job well-done was just that: your job. It was expected of you to do it and do it right. It takes him aback. Some of the weight on his chest diminishes.

“Thank you, Bob. That means a lot coming from you. I’m learning from the best, after all.”

He says it with a small smile in the hopes of alleviating some of Bob’s anxieties as well. If Bob even had such things. Jim wasn’t entirely sure, but he was human just like everyone else. Even stoic FBI Director’s had their bad days, and this was certainly a bad day by any standard.

Bob nod, but doesn’t say anything else. Maybe Jim's acknowledgment of the praise had made him uncomfortable. Maybe receiving praise made him uncomfortable. Jim wasn’t sure. Perhaps he should apologize.

“Bob.”

“Jim.”

Jim gives a soft laugh.

“Go ahead, Bob.”

They sit in silence for a few more moments. There’s no sound save for an occasional cricket chirping.

Bob chooses his words carefully.

“You’re a good man, Jim. You didn’t have to learn that from me. Tonight? That was all you. And I certainly wasn’t going to let you face it alone.”

The tears that had been present with him all night sting afresh at the corners of his eyes, and he swallows hard over a lump in his throat. Bob finally faces him then, and Bob can see that his eyes are shining green in the dark. Bob reaches out and puts his hand over Jim’s where they were still clasped.

“The law held, Jim.”

With that, Bob stands, and Jim misses the warmth of his proximity. It was comforting to have him so near in more ways than one. Bob looks at him encouragingly, and Jim feels restored and determined to see this through.

“And so will we,” Jim says.

Bob smiles for a moment before turning back towards the hospital.

He follows Bob back inside.


End file.
